Vocation calling

Posted on October 22nd, 2009 3 great comments. Room for one more!

I think that I may be having a mid-life crisis. May be.

The thing is, I’m not sure if it’s technically mid-life at thirty-five. Also, doesn’t that usually come during the marriage? And I have absolutely no wish to buy a flashy sports car, get hair plugs, or date younger women. Well, maybe that last part. But basically, I’m not exhibiting the standard signs of a crisis. Except maybe uncertainty about my job. No, my vocation; my calling.

This morning, waiting for the streetcar, I looked up at a window washer and seriously thought, “Could I do that?”

all your corporate secret are belong to us!

I think the main problem is that programming’s just not fun anymore. I’m not talking about sidebar widgets, but the everyday working-for-the-man kind of stuff. On a broader scale, I know that working for money always involves working-for-the-man.  The man has projects and ideas about how he wants those projects to act/look/feel/sound/touch/react/sparkle/etc. Sometimes, it’s hard to get enthusiastic about all those ideas. Sometimes they’re not really even ideas, just innuendo.

As I usually do in my darker moments, I found solace in the Toronto Archives. They revealed that my situation isn’t unique. That others have suffered as I have. That I am not alone:

hey! it's whipless wednesday!

Gah! That even looks like the office where I work!

Look at them, slaving away for that jerk back there, flipping through filthy mags and abusing himself. And back then, shackles came off only after the shift was finished, and the boss could fire you for anything!

Check out the terrible working conditions some people had to put up with:

last day on the job. also first.

To stop oncoming streetcars with your head, to essentially act as the brake, is a horribly dangerous profession. If the guy in the picture thinks that by covering his face he’s somehow better-protected from the oncoming multi-tonne vehicle, he’s sorely mistaken. Same goes for that flimsy-looking tether he’s got snaking over his foot. He’s not even tied in!


And I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw this photo:

now you produce wok!

In one sudden and terrifying moment she realizes who she’s been producing munitions for all this time. The Red Chinese!

Talk about a demoralizing work environment.

Kind of like this:

little timmy there on the left. loser.

Unbelievable. First they make him drive that hunk of crap on, what is that? a dirt road? And look who’s along for the ride; a bunch of cripples! Add insult to injury, then the driver gets to wear “Special” above his head all day.

I don’t know how he put up with it. In fact, I don’t know how any of them could do what they did all day. But in a sense, I’m glad they did. Helped to throw some perspective on my modern lack of enthusiasm. Yup. Totally justified.

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